


teeth

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Cisco 2.0 Is Alive And Well, Cyborg Harrisco Are A Mess, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Sexual Violence, The Harrisco Is Pre-Slash, Unhealthy Relationships, Wells 2.0 Only Eats Him In Sexy Ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 18:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: Wells 2.0 wonders if his Cisco put on weight after breaching from their earth to whatever peaceful, green planet he'd seen in his visions. If he has a soft padding of flesh along the ribs Wells used to scrape his teeth over. If he has any lean muscle peaking under his clothes like the Cisco in front of Wells now.





	teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Cyborg Wells comes from a violent, messed up planet. This fic and his relationships with his daughter and his Cisco are violent and messed up as an extension. Please note tags!

His Cisco had been skinnier. All bones and sharp, twitching fingers. Wells can still remember cutting his tongue on the knobs of Cisco’s spine. How holding Cisco’s hip bones, thin as blades, rubbed his palms raw.

He wonders if Cisco put on weight after breaching from their earth to whatever peaceful, green planet he'd seen in his visions. If he has a soft padding of flesh along the ribs Wells used to scrape his teeth over. If he has any lean muscle peaking under his clothes like the Cisco in front of Wells now.

Wells watches this Cisco drink beer and tip his head back in a laugh. His throat swells with the phantom aftertaste of his Cisco’s sweat.

“He is a cutie, isn’t he?” Lothario asks. “Not gonna say Harry’s rejection doesn’t hurt, but I can’t blame him.”

Wells digs into his roasted Gila and doesn’t answer. This friendship thing is still a work in progress. It’s getting smoother, but there are still rough patches. Still aches and sores from seeing themselves reflected back at each other.

“I’ve been been meaning to ask. When you said your earth’s Cisco was delicious, did you mean delicious like that lizard on a stick you’re working on, or delicious like a three way on a white sand beach?”

Before Wells can answer with a gruff invitation for Lothario to get mauled by mountain spiders, the Cisco that didn’t leave his Wells calls to them.

“Guys. I think we just made a DeVoe break through.”

“Is it the baby?” Wells rasps.

Cisco shakes his head. A curl falls over his collar. His hair is shinier but not nearly as long as his Cisco had grown it. It looks ridiculous falling over his shoulders instead of coming to his lower back. Wells remembers the thick, intricate braid he used to wrap around his hand, used to hold Cisco still with. His fingers flex with the muscle memory of braiding it back after he tore it loose.

“Sorry, buddy. No baby hunting today.”

“Maybe next time,” Harry says. “Let me call up Wolfgang and we’ll review the data.”

-

The data doesn’t fit. They call it a night and agree that Harry will holograph them in the next evening. Cisco waves a sleepy goodbye to them and looks softer than Wells ever saw. His Cisco was always taut as a bow, ready to wound and sunder, even when he closed his eyes on Wells sleeping mat. Even when Wells said he would watch over him.

Throughout the next day Wells sweats under three cruel suns. He sets traps for food and gathers water for his people. An emissary from the tribe Jesse is leading comes. The group is going to be in their territory within three days. He tells the emissary she’ll be safe.

When the first sun sets, he slips into his tent and unravels Cisco’s parting gift. A lock of hair wrapped in cloth. Wells sleeps with it under his pillow. He hasn't taken it out in weeks. He thought that meant something.

The Cisco who eats and smiles wide and lets Harry touch him easily floats into his vision. Wells hands itch at the thought of him. He’s so tender. 

His Cisco had been wild. Impossible to tame, cut jagged on a life of fear and survival until Jesse had found him half feral from wounds just outside their territory. He’d been abandoned by his tribe. Wells hadn’t wanted to take him in until he saw the kid fight. Cisco was an animal, hungry and afraid. Always hurt or hurting. Always devouring.

Wells presses the lock to his lips. The scent of Cisco’s body heat, his constant terror and blood lust, barely clings to the hair anymore. But Wells can still taste it. If he tries he can still feel it, pulsing in him, all around him.

There’s a crunch of leaves outside and Wells shoves the keepsake back under his pillow. Snow 3.0 sweeps aside his tent flap.

“You wanted me to tell you when the second sun went down.”

Wells nods. When he stands then tries to move past her, she holds her ground.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business,” he snaps, shouldering past her.

She lets him get a few steps away before calling - “Is it him?”

Wells pauses in his tracks. Clenches his jaw and reminds himself killing his second in command always comes with more trouble than it’s worth.

“Why would you even ask that?”

“You keep having shady after hours chats in the woods with someone I can't see. What am I supposed to think?”

She's been following him. He should've known. Jesse was right. He has gotten soft.

“That I’m going to sell you to the traders for a new pair of boots.”

Her expression doesn’t change, but she does put up her hands. He would tell her to forget Cisco. To let go of the attachment she developed before Cisco learned he had powers and left them on this rock. But he’s told her a hundred times in the time Cisco’s been gone. He doesn’t think she’ll ever get over it. Not like he has.

-

Being a hologram is odd. It feels dangerous and unsteady, like Wells could be scrambled in either world he’s straddling. There’s enough of a thrill in his mettle that he keeps answering Harry’s calls.

They’ve narrowed it down to one possible DeVoe and are celebrating as Wells waves into their lab. Lothario is there, and Wolfgang, and even Grey, who’s booming something. Harry is smiling over a glass of amber in the face of Cisco’s own smile.

“What kind of celebration is this?” Wells asks. “Where’s the roasting shark? Do we even have any DeVoe blood to toast with?”

Cisco’s lips twist. Disgust. Almost the same look his Cisco had sported when he learned of his adoptive tribe’s tradition. He’d grown to appreciate it, eventually. The memory of Cisco, full mouth stained rich with enemy blood, eyes blown wide in anticipation, punches Wells square in the jaw.

He clenches his fist around his gun.

“Yeah, no. Drinking enemy blood not traditional on Earth 1,” Cisco says.

“Not even with fava beans and a nice Chianti,” Harry adds. He’s smiling toothy and wide. His Cisco glares. “Too much? I thought it was funny - because the whole he ate you thing - ”

“Not funny,” Cisco says. “Just traumatic.”

“Ja, it is a little funny," Wolfgang says.

Cisco grins plastic back at him. There’s an edge to it, not nearly as feral as his Cisco’s had been, but it’s familiar. The weld in Wells chest feels flimsy.

“When we find a version of your friend that killed and ate you, then you can judge what’s funny, m’kay?”

Wells scowls. “I didn’t kill him.”

The room pauses in a sudden, taut flutter.

“You ate me alive?” Cisco screeches. The high pitch makes Wells wince. His Cisco’s voice was much softer, always aware of who or what could hear him. “You ate me to death?”

“Not you.” Not at all. “And not dead.”

Cisco’s eyes go impossibly wide. Innocent. His Cisco never looked like that - it would’ve gotten him killed.

“Are you saying… you’re still nomming on me? Keeping me chained up somewhere so you can grab a little Cisco snack when you’re feeling peckish? Harry.” He reaches out, swiping blind, and Harry steadies him with a hand to the shoulder. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

A sickness passes over Cisco’s face but Wells ignores it. Thinks about his Cisco wrapped in heavy chains, wrists weighted down so he wouldn’t hurt himself in his sleep. It was the only way he could rest when he first joined Wells camp. Eventually he slept safe without them. He still asked for them, sometimes. It was one request Wells was always happy to oblige.

“Alright, alright,” Lothario says. “Everybody just calm down. I’m thinking that maybe we’re losing something in translation here. Now all Wells 2.0 here said was that his Cisco was delicious. We just assumed that meant he cannibalized his version of our little friend here - ”

“I didn’t cannibalize anyone,” Wells interrupts. His nerves grate against his buzzing tech. “Not recently. And not him.”’

Harry and Cisco exchange confused glances. Frown lines scratch into their faces. They turn to him in sync.

“So when you said your Cisco was delicious…” Harry trails off, swallowing hard.

“I was acknowledging the quality of your consort,” Wells says.

“Okay.” Cisco throws up his hands. “Scientist, here. And superhero. Not a consort.”

“No. We’re - no consorting. We’re just friends. Best friends.” Cisco raises his eyebrows. Harry crosses his arms. “Friends.”

“With benefits?” Lothario asks.

“You know what. This is all just too much excitement for me. I’m going to - go be somewhere not here.”

Cisco opens a breach and steps through without another word. It’s familiar. Sets Wells teeth on edge.

“He’s had a long day,” Harry says. He licks his lips and carefully avoids Wells gaze.

“So tell us more about this consort Cisco of yours,” Lothario encourages. “Has he ever expressed any interest in being the middle of a Wells French dip?”

“No. Nope. Don’t do that. Don’t need to hear about that.” Harry’s cheeks flush under the low lab lights.

“Not much to tell anyway,” Wells says. His vision is swimming in all that electric blue. For all the differences between his Cisco and Harry's, they looked the same breaching away. “Cisco joined my tribe after his left him for dead. Found ways to make himself useful. Then he got his powers and found a shiny new Earth.”

Harry finally looks at him. “And he didn’t ask you to go with him?” Wells recognizes the nerves in his voice. The fear.

Cisco did ask. Asked him and Jesse and Snow. Swore they could all find something better. Wells clenches his jaw. “Only a weak man leaves his home. That Cisco was a coward. I don’t have time for cowards.”

In fact, Wells doesn’t have time for this. There are preparations to make for Jesse’s visit.

“I need to get back.”

“Yeah, yep, not a problem. Severing the connection in 3, 2, 1.”

Wells blinks the image of the lab away. His vision still burns blue.

-

The swordtooth Wells is hunting has hidden itself well. No matter. Wells is an excellent tracker. Better than Cisco had been, even. Just as focused and ferocious but with years of experience to give him an edge.

He and Cisco had trapped two of them in this very quadrant of the woods before Cisco left. Cisco had used his new powers to find the creatures. Wells said it was cheating.

The memory distracts him, just like the attachment had. Does. He barely has a moment to curse Cisco in his head before he feels teeth dig into his shoulder.

Fucking forest cats.

Wells goes slack in its maw, trying to play soft so he can work his knife into its flank. The slaughtertooth claws at his hands, scratching into his blood, and he drops his weapon. Fine. Not like he hasn’t killed one of these with his bare hands before.

He scratches right back, dragging clumps of fur with his fingernails, drawing black blood and a howl. The fury of it scrapes his mech, sparks him up. He smiles when he gets his own teeth into the cat’s neck.

Another growl bounces off the trees and Wells realizes this isn’t a one on one fight. Terror makes his spine rigid and cold. The slip gives the slaughtertooth the leverage it needs to pin him. He feels it’s breath fire hot on the nape of his neck. Cisco used to gnaw bruises in him there. Makes sense it would be his final wound.

He tries to buck, at least make the thing work for the kill. There’s a clash, a crash, a shot. Suddenly the cat is warm and unmoving and crushing the muscle metal of his back.

Footsteps, shouting. Boots come into his blurring eyesight. He recognizes something - the voices, that particular scent of blood. He slumps into the dirt as the slaughtertooth is drug from him.

“Hi daddy,” Jesse says from somewhere above him. The metal of her hand glints as she reaches for him. He takes it with a wince.

-

They’re expanding territory. Wells doesn’t think it’s smart. He tells Jesse she’s going to get herself killed and she shrugs around a mouthful of forest cat. End of discussion.

“Snow said you’ve been working with another Wells,” she says, conversational, as they eat, just the two of them around a fire.

“When did you talk to Snow?”

“When you were passed out. Why are you wasting your time with on another Earth? You were the one who told me attachments don’t do anything but kill you.”

Or tear your eye out.

“It’s just a way to pass the time.”

“These other Wells you’re helping. Any of them got Cisco’s?”

Jesse’s never pulled her punches. Wells raised her that way. He’s not surprised she asks.

“One.” Her silence is judgment enough. “I didn’t know when I answered the riddle. Not what it’s about, anyway.”

She cracks her remaining human knuckles. “He made you weak.”

This isn’t a new argument. They’ve been having it since he moved Cisco from the tent he built and booby trapped himself to Wells own.

“You’re distracted again. He might as well still be here.”

Wells doesn’t remind her of every time Cisco’s clever fingers and vicious teeth saved them. It doesn’t matter. He left. In the end, he ran. He was never worthy.

-

Jesse’s tribe re-stock supplies and head out the next day. As she leads them, Wells tries to imagine her in one of the worlds Cisco described from his visions. He can’t picture it. She wouldn’t be happy anywhere but home, protecting her territory and people, conquering others. Thriving where so few even survived.

She would have never left and never forgiven Wells if he had either.

-

On Earth 1, Wells watches Harry and Wolfgang play holographic chess and wants to pluck his other eye out.

“We play this with actual people on my Earth,” he tells Lothario and Cisco. “Much more exciting that way.”

“What happens when a piece gets knocked off the board?” Cisco asks. Before he can answer, Cisco holds up his hand. “You know what. Forget I asked.”

“This is a battle of the minds, my cyborg friend. Nothing more fun to watch than that. Well. A few things.” Lothario grins.

Cisco makes a face. Wells grunts. This Cisco. He’s just so soft. All gentle curls and smooth skin, free of the scars and burns and badges of bravery his Cisco sported.

Wells drifts his gaze over Cisco’s clean arms. There’s no bullet crack from where Jesse accidentally grazed him once. No scars from where Wells nicked him with a blade while they sparred. No claw marks that have faded into smooth, silver lines down his cheek.

Wells can’t imagine his Cisco ever being so untouched. Even in Cisco’s childhood stories, he was too curious and too ferocious to move through their world unharmed. His Cisco had always been marked. Had always been made more beautiful by his own brutality.

The game ends. Wells looks from Cisco’s too tender face to see Wolfgang laughing and Harry scowling. Lothario moves to congratulate Wolfgang. Harry moves to grab a beer from the counter. He leans next to Cisco, close. They’re always close.

“I take back everything I said about wanting to be friends,” Harry says. “I hate him.”

Cisco grasps his shoulder. They’re always touching, too. Always so gentle.

“One game, Harry. You’ll get him next time.” Cisco turns to him with a bright smile. No mischief, no knife glint. “You sure you don’t want me to breach you over a beer?”

Wells tenses. “I don’t like breaching.”

Cisco watches him, thoughtful, curious. The tilt of his gaze is almost the same as the Cisco Wells can still taste, but the sharpness isn’t. This Cisco can’t gut him like his own had. Harry glances at him, quick as prey, then stares at his beer.

“You wanna talk about it?” Cisco asks.

“Ramon. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Break-ups are hard, man. I get it. It'll feel better to talk about it and who knows better how to heal your broken heart than you?”

“My heart’s functioning at 95% efficiency,” Wells tells them.

“See?” Harry says. “Nothing keeps Cyborg Wells down.”

Cisco crosses his arms and watches Harry with an expectant gaze. That expectation - always holding Wells to a different standard, always watching and waiting. That’s familiar. Wells knows what it is to bow under the weight of Cisco’s demands. To want to be everything Cisco wants.

Harry breaks. Wells tells himself he never did, that even when he bent under Cisco’s weight it at least took all of Cisco’s finely tuned sharpness.

“Are you sure you don’t want to - you know. Talk about it," Harry asks.

“Nothing to talk about.”

Harry gestures. Cisco gestures. They have a fight with their hands that makes Wells cross eyed.

“He doesn’t have anything to talk about. But if you do, I’m here. And so are - they.” Harry frowns at their doppelgangers. “Maybe not Wolfgang.”

“Yeah," Cisco agrees. "That dude is definitely gonna die alone.”

“Talk to Lothario. He’ll help you out.”

“Harry, come on. That guy is a cross between Hugh Hefner and every skeezy guy Matthew McConaughey has ever played. Including Matthew McConaughey. He can’t help Wells recover from losing the love of his life.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “The love of his - what makes you think Cisco 2.0 was the love of his life?”

“4.0,” Wells corrects. They stop bickering to blink at him. “He was a 3. Parents got him involved in an experimental upgrade when he was a kid.”

Handed Cisco over to a group demanding subjects to protect their oldest son, actually. Cisco never said it directly but the handful of times he whispered to Harry about family, Wells decoded the pain. The betrayals. It was the way of the world and it made Cisco who he was. Wells doesn’t speak any of this out loud. Those are Cisco’s secrets, shared only on sweat slick nights when their lips were cracked and swollen.

Cisco frowns. “Well that’s nice.” A beat. “What kind of upgrade?”

“He never told me. Don’t think he knew.”

“Is that what gave him his powers?”

Harry knocks his elbow against Cisco’s arm. The move makes Cisco straighten, smile like a child, apologetic for unintentional cruelty. His Cisco was always aware of his own cruelty, always purposeful. Magnificent.

Wolfgang offers him a game, but he declines. The tribe is hunting tonight. Harry shuts down his holograph.

-

That night Wells sleeps with fresh scrapes on his shoulders and his fingers curled around Cisco’s hair. His thumb traces its texture. Cisco’s braid was always a matted, frizzy mess. Too thick and coarse and falling to the small of his back where Wells used to scratch out raised skin and moans.

Wells closes his eye and thinks of how he used to tug the mess from Cisco’s leather tie. How all that black used to cover his bed roll like blood. How it draped them both like night when Cisco slid on his lap. How heavy his arms would get braiding it back.

His nails ache. The urge to dig into Cisco’s scalp gnaws at him, sharp as Cisco’s teeth. He scratches along the cool night earth. Remembers the first time he nearly brought Cisco to tears from yanking his hair. How crazy Cisco had gone for the sting of Harry’s fingers.

Data and memory swirl wet in his head. He finds himself running the hair along his cheek, searching out the scent of Cisco’s hurt, Cisco’s pleasure. He rolls his hips against a ghost.

This ugly need doesn’t stain him often but when it does he doesn’t resist. He never resisted his urges when it came to Cisco. Inhaling deep, he ruts forward, all animal instinct, the same way he and Cisco used to rut into each other.

He presses his fingers hard into his hip bone. It was Cisco’s favorite spot to bruise. He would suck and scrape and claw until Wells ached. Wells could’ve covered the thin nail lines and marks with a longer vest. He never did.

When the pressure isn’t enough he growls and digs half moons into his own skin. He gropes in the dark for Cisco’s sharp fingers, his cutting tongue, his angry mouth. The last time and the first. Cisco teasing him with cruelty and that clever smile.

He finally gets his own hand around himself. The scrape of skin, calloused just as much as Cisco’s had been, pulls his chest tight over his metal. His teeth dig into his knuckles and the lock of Cisco’s hair flows hot between his fingers. He keeps his movements quick and tight and biting.

The hurt and the good crescendo. He spills into his hand. Only in the come down does he realize how hard he’s breathing. How heavy his heart howls in his ear.

-

Fighting battles on two Earth’s makes Wells wonder how he staved off boredom before the Council.

He steps into one of Cisco’s forgotten traps, nearly impaling himself on a hidden bed of wooden stakes. Pulling himself up with his nails and sore fingertips, he remembers.

Word spreads of Jesse’s territory expansion. He sends a messenger with food and the knife he used in his first coup to congratulate her. Pride has started to outweigh his fear for her. She’s grown into someone fearsome, someone fierce, someone who no longer needs protection. Not the daughter he trained so desperately but the woman who plucked his eye out in the combat games.

Snow watches him more closely at the news. She’s already been pressing him under glass, always aware when he slips into the clearing to holograph to Earth 1. He doesn’t know what she’s trying to find.

-

Harry calls him to go over a battle plan. The tactics are solid but it’s missing the brutality that guarantees swift and total victory. It reeks of Harry and his Cisco, their softness. Wells says as much.

“We’re not blowing out a section of highway to make a booby trap,” Harry says, rubbing his temples.

“If you’re not going to listen to my suggestions, why did you call me?”

“Because I didn’t think your suggestions would involve tearing my city apart.”

Movement to their right and Wells swivels his eye to see Cisco padding into the room. Exhaustion makes his face rounder. It always made his Cisco sharper.

“Aw, Harry. You called this your city.” He smiles and grips Harry’s arm. “How goes the tactical upgrade?”

“It doesn’t. I don’t think his methods are applicable to a world with humans.”

Wells gnaws into a piece of shark jerky while they talk. They don’t want to take his advice, fine. They’ll come back to him bearing scars and lost fingers, just like Jesse. They’ll listen then.

“Maybe we should all just call it a night,” Cisco suggests. “Come back in the morning. I need sleep. You need sleep. Wells 2.0 needs… Do you sleep?”

“Ramon.”

“That’s an appropriate question. I’m not asking him about his heart ravaging break up.”

Harry smacks his arm. “Ramon.”

“Sorry.” Cisco looks from Harry to him. “Sorry. I’m running on like two hours of sleep and five Carmel Kid Flash Macchiato's. Don’t mean to keep rehashing your romantic trauma.”

“There was no trauma,” Wells snaps through a mouthful of tough meat. “Cisco was mine and then he decided he’d rather frolic around on some other Earth. I didn’t want a weakling.”

“No offense, but your Earth doesn’t seem… great.” Cisco grimaces.

“It’s my home. It was his. He didn’t care.”

“How can you be so sure? Have you even talked to him? Do you even know what Earth he went to? You - ”

“Cisco.” Harry’s fingers are solid on Cisco’s shoulder. Cisco shuts up. Wells scowls at the slope of Cisco’s acquiescence. He can’t recall a time his Cisco ever obeyed when he didn’t want to. “It’s not our place.”

Cisco scrubs a hand over his face. “I know. I know. That Cisco isn’t you Ramon. They aren’t us.”

Harry stops touching him. Stops looking at him. Wells doesn’t miss the twitch of his fingers or the quick glance Cisco flicks upwards. And they think he’s stunted.

“Cut off the connection," Wells says. "Call me when you’re ready to listen.”

-

They don’t contact him for a week.

He trains for the combat games. Spars with Snow and spends most of his energy having to push her to push him. She won’t draw blood, won’t fight dirty, won’t challenge the mech in his head. How is he supposed to anticipate new moves if she won’t think of them.

The last time he trained, Cisco nearly killed him before he made it to the ring. He didn’t lose an eye in those games. He didn’t lose anything.

At night he keeps his hands on his belly and considers that thin skinned Cisco’s words. He doesn’t know what Earth his Cisco is on. They haven’t spoken since he left. It doesn’t matter, he decides. Wherever Cisco is isn’t here and whatever he’s thinking he’s keeping it to himself.

If he regrets leaving, if he misses Wells - that doesn’t matter, either. Abandoning the tribe demands blood. It’s not like Cisco could come back.

-

A few days later, their plan fails. They call Wells in. He adjusts the strategy as if minimizing infrastructural damage is integral to success. They listen. They succeed.

They celebrate. Still no enemy blood, but Harry and Cisco modify the holographic chess board. The pieces look like people now and when one is knocked off the board, it explodes, splattering the black and white with red. Wells eye doesn’t water when he sees it. There’s just something in his Earth's wind.

He plays all three of his doppelgangers. He only wins once but it’s so entertaining he doesn’t break anything.

After he relinquishes the board, Cisco hovers next to him.

“So you liked our mods?” he asks. Wells nods. “Good. I just wanted to apologize, again. It’s a lot harder for me to separate the line between doppelgangers than Harry.”

“It’s fine,” Wells says. “You’re curious. Can’t fault you for that.”

They settle into silence. It’s almost comfortable.

“He was curious.”

Wells doesn’t know why he says it. Cisco blinks at him over a drink. Wells bites the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah?” Cisco says, encouraging.

“He was. He wanted to tear everything apart, figure out how it worked.”

Cisco waits, giving him space to say more. He doesn’t. “Do you miss him?”

The question is quiet. Nudging with gentle fingers that would get bitten off on Wells world. Wells tries to focus on that. Ignores the question. Ignores the answer.

-

Wells catches Snow packing on the one year anniversary of Cisco leaving. Tradition dictates he put a bullet in her heart. Every piece of data in his bones urges him to make the right example out of her, to show his tribe his strength, what happens to anyone who tries to leave that can’t disappear through a breach.

He pulls his gun from his holster and hands it to her.

“I can’t let you go without trying to track you,” he says as she takes it with shaking hands. It’s true. The code would have him stripped of his leadership position and his tongue. But he can’t shoot her without a gun.

“No one will believe I took this from you.”

Wells shrugs. “It doesn’t matter if they believe it.”

“You would really do that? Really let me leave?”

He takes a seat next to her, legs crossed. “I let Cisco leave.”

A smile tugs at her. “You really couldn’t have stopped him.” Wells tries not to smile back, but he can’t. “We should’ve gone with him.”

“He shouldn’t have gone.”

“Where do you think he went?” she asks, ignoring him. “Do you really think he found somewhere better?”

Wells doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know.

Snow stays.

-

Another emissary arrives. Jesse's taken more territory. She's encroaching closer and closer to his. 

Cisco always warned him that would happen. Wells had never worried. Jesse wouldn't bat an eye at overtaking his tribe but she wouldn't kill him. If she did challenge him, win or lose, he would have Cisco by his side. In his bed. He thought nothing would ever change that.

-

Harry calls the Council in for a DeVoe update. Victory is so close even Wells can taste it.

After the meeting, Wells calls to Cisco before he walks away. The wires in his jaw tangle in his words and it takes him a moment to speak.

“If I did want to know what Earth he went to,” Wells says. “Could you find him?”

Cisco nods with wide eyes. “Yeah. I mean, I’m 96% sure. 88%. Do you have something of his?”

“Why?”

“It helps me vibe. I could probably find him without it but it makes a lot easier. Even if it’s something small.”

Wells thinks about the weapons Cisco left - everything but the dagger Wells made for him and slipped in his pack. He buried the other weapons next to one of the first traps they built together. The few clothes Cisco had he took. Everything else he had was given him to him by Wells himself or Snow. He only left Wells with one thing.

“I have something.”

-

Cisco brings Harry when they breach to his world. Wells isn’t surprised.

He doesn’t lead them into the camp. They may be getting closer but they don’t need to see his home.

“Your world is. Nice.” Harry takes in the sky, a wounded shade of orange today, and the black branched forest.

“Yeah,” Cisco agrees uneasily. “So. You got something for me to vibe on?”

Wells unwraps the lock of hair and hands it to him. Cisco doesn’t take it.

“What’s wrong? Will this not work?”

Cisco shakes his head. “No, it’s. Great.” He leans into Harry and drops his voice. “I should be happy that it’s just hair and not some other body part, right?”

Harry nods. Cisco takes the lock with a tense smile. He slides on a pair of goggles and steps back from them, settling on the forest floor.

“This may take a minute, okay?”

“Take your time, Ramon. We’re right here.”

-

Earth 72 has more green things than Wells has ever seen.

Lush pads of it roll over hills and flat land. It sprouts from the ground in sprawling plants Wells can’t even fathom. The clouds stretching thick over the horizon are even tinted with it.

“This is the Earth he picked?” Wells snarls. Of all the places to leave Wells for - this is where Cisco ran?

“Really? You’re judging this place?” Cisco asks. “Whatever. You see the smoke stack coming up over that hill? He’s staying in that village. Last house on the right. You might want to change outfits.”

Wells looks down at himself. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Nothing. Just, from my vibes, they seem kind of conservative and might not appreciate all the Harry hip bone action.”

“Cisco likes my hip bones.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “Just - take this.” He pulls a black sweater from his bag.

Wells frowns at it, but he slips it on. It itches.

“From what I’ve figured out about this Earth, they’re pretty peaceful. So maybe you wanna leave that - ” Cisco points at his gun “ - with us.”

“No.”

“Told you he wouldn’t go for that,” Harry says.

“So that’s it, I think. From what I’ve vibed your Cisco has just been chilling here, living his life. And he’s single, from what I can tell. So.” Cisco slaps his arm. “Go get him, Romeo. Call us when you’re ready to breach home.”

-

Wells finds a full tree and climbs to observe the village below. There are a few dozen huts, solid but with no protection. Larger buildings towards the center of town, several even larger surrounding it, and a fire pit right in the middle. People mill about. They’re all covered in muted cloths, fabric around their wrists and ankles, coming up past their collar.

When he sees Cisco, he curls his fingers around a branch to remain steady. The bark bites into his flesh and the hurt keeps him stable.

Cisco is walking with a woman. His arms are full with what looks like food, just as hers are, and they’re speaking. She’s laughing bright and wide. He’s not, but there’s a twitch in his mouth, and the upturn of his lips touches the scar low on his cheek. Wells only ever saw him that happy in a fight - on the field, in the ring, in Harry’s tent.

He’s in the same attire as the rest of the village. It swirls rage in Wells eye and he narrows it. After all this time, after all this waiting, and he’s denied the sight of Cisco’s skin. It’s all he wanted - just to see Cisco in his burning glory, even from a distance. At least his hair is still long. Not as frizzy in the dryer air, but his braid is still in its familiar mess. Wells scrapes his fingers into the tree so hard he feels his skin tear.

Watching Cisco talk and move with the villagers is more painful than Wells anticipated. The vision of him hooks into Wells skin and yanks and he realizes it’s not enough. He has to touch Cisco. Has to taste him again, even if it’s just once.

Wells waits until night falls. It doesn’t take long; there’s only one sun, wide and bright in the sky, and it swoops below a mountain within hours. He scales from his tree and slips to Cisco’s hut.

The hut is lined with a hidden row of spikes. Predictable. So is the twine that connects the door knob to a brick just above it. The brick isn’t particularly heavy, though, and when Wells runs his finger along a spike he finds its dull.

Is this what this Earth has done to his Cisco? Made him soft brained and weak willed? Wells can’t reconcile it. Cisco would never be so sloppy. He was too clever, too ruthless when it came to protecting himself, too thirsty to inflict hurt on those who would hurt him. His traps would never fail.

Wells turns in his crouch, half facing the hut, half facing the moon illuminated in electric green. This isn’t his Cisco at all. Not anymore.

He reaches for the communicator Harry gave him. Before he can flip the switch, he’s being flipped onto his back.

There was no sound. Not even a whisper or shudder of breath. That should’ve been Wells first clue.

Cisco is on his chest, pinning his arms underneath thighs that spread fuller than they ever did on their home earth, hand hot and heavy over Wells mouth. Wells feels the prick of a blade at his jugular and smiles against Cisco’s palm.

Cisco leans down, speaking directly over Wells cheek. His breath is warm. Wells fights to keep his eye open at the feel of him. The scent. It’s overwhelming, clogging his pores and making his data run sluggish. It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.

“Give me one good reason not to slit your throat,” Cisco says, low, no hint of hesitation. Wells hands twitch under the thighs pinning him, hungry to touch. Starving. “I’m going to move my hand. You make any other than noise that isn’t begging for your life, I cut out your tongue.”

“I,” Wells starts, trying to keep his mouth around his words and not dive for Cisco’s neck. His teeth throb when Cisco tilts his head, just a little, just enough to reveal the soft underside of his chin. Wells wants to rip it open and drink in every last ounce of him.

Cisco presses the blade in. Wells feels the prick of blood pool against his skin. His body aches.

“If you’re trying to take me back to face my punishment, you - ”

“I missed you.”

Wells meant to say something else. To say Snow was worried or Jesse was demanding proof that he wasn’t on the Earth anymore. Lothario had told him to say what he really felt. Be honest.

It works, in a way. The words are enough to stagger Cisco’s hold on him - a beginner’s mistake, Cisco has lost part of his edge, but it only makes Wells wants to press himself harder against it. Wells flips them so Cisco is pinned under his hands. He gets his knee into Cisco’s stomach, applying only a little bit more than the pressure needed to keep him still. Cisco’s mouth twists up at him. Wells can see his pupils bleeding into lust.

Cisco squints at him through the gauzy dark. “You’re not here to take me back?” Wells shakes his head. “But you’re not here to stay. Why - ”

“I wanted to see you,” Wells whispers. Cisco takes an aching breath and Wells considers Lothario may have actually given him good advice. “I needed to see you.”

“Those idiots with you,” Cisco hisses. “The ones who brought you here. Who were they?”

Wells almost falters. He shouldn’t be so surprised that Cisco knows about their doppelgangers but he is. His grip almost loosens, his focus almost slides. He collects himself a moment before Cisco can slip out of his grip and get the dagger in him. Cisco won’t kill him - had a hundred chances and only tried to take a handful when they first met. But Cisco will hurt him. He always lived by the philosophy of torture first, ask questions second. People were generally quicker to answer that way.

“They’re from another Earth. Fighting an enemy that’s smarter than them so they reached out to me. They breached me here.”

Cisco struggles under him and he digs his nails into the cloth covering all of Cisco’s skin. It doesn’t make Cisco stop. Wells knew it wouldn’t and gluts himself on Cisco’s fight, the press of Cisco’s bones into his, the slip slide of power.

“Why?” Cisco pants.

“I told you. I needed to see you.”

“Why?” Cisco demands again and Wells presses his knee lower, right over the softest pad of Cisco’s stomach, and Cisco grimaces but doesn’t make any other noise. He’s still controlled. Still a warrior. Still Wells’ Cisco.

Wells kisses him. Their teehth clack and it echoes in the too quiet night. He gets Cisco’s bottom lip between his hunger and bites, yanks, pulling until he feels heat rush to the surface. Cisco chins him, enough to shock his mouth slack, and tangles their tongues together.

-

They make it as far as the front door closing. The memory of Cisco is like ash in his throat compared to the real thing and Wells lets his hunger drive him.

Cisco drops to his knees on a soft, firm floor. His fingers scrape at Wells exposed belly. The jut of Wells hips is covered by the stupid sweater and Cisco yanks it off with a growl. Wells finally gets his fingers around Cisco’s hair as Cisco bites bruises into his bones.

He gets Cisco pinned beneath him again. It’s a struggle to get Cisco to hold still while Wells gets his mouth over Cisco’s throat and tears at his ugly clothes. He sucks at every inch of skin revealed. Bites and licks and tries to get to the marrow of Cisco, the heart of him.

Cisco lets Wells urge him to his hands and knees. Wells tastes everything he can get. The curve of Cisco’s spine, the dips at the small of his back, the shaking crease of his hips and thighs and knees. When he feels the hunger twist too painful in his stomach, he gives up teasing and spreads Cisco wide with his palms.

Cisco arches into his touch with a wild noise. Wells drinks it before sliding forward, licking into Cisco where he’s hottest, and a sound of pleasure is ripped from his gut. Delicious - warm and familiar and perfect. Still the best thing Wells has ever tasted.

Nails crash against his scalp and angle to pull him closer. Wells goes willingly, happily. There’s nothing quite like having Cisco like this. Vulnerable for a few moments, trusting, spread out like a feast. He laps at Cisco until he can feel Cisco shake underneath him.

Every moan he pulls is a victory. Every whimper Cisco tries to muffle but Wells greedy fingers catch is a reclamation. By the time Cisco comes apart, he feels Cisco’s taste coating his bones again.

Wells pushes himself between Cisco’s thighs. He was right, they are thicker, wrapped in a new lean layer. Cisco is as much flesh as bones now. It drives Wells hunger deeper. There’s so much more of Cisco to taste.

“You’ve gotten soft,” Wells whispers, angling for cruel. The insult gets lost in Wells heavy breath. Cisco’s skin gives pleasantly under his touch and Cisco hisses at the pressure, arches into it. Wells slides his hands around to press at Cisco’s belly, mesmerized by the way his fingertips sink into Cisco’s body.

“You don’t seem to mind,” Cisco hisses.

Wells gets Cisco on his back. Cisco scratches welts down his side, vicious and desperate, even more wild than Wells remembers. Cisco digs his teeth into Wells shoulder and bites. He makes a hurt noise, like he’s stinging more than Wells, and Wells rocks their bodies together. Cisco digs his nails like hooks in Wells spine and squeezes Wells ribs together with his thighs. Wells can barely breathe.

“You said you weren’t staying,” Cisco pants into his ear. He sounds pained. “What if I don’t let you leave?”

Wells ruts into him harder. Cisco couldn’t - Wells has always escaped his traps, eventually - but that Cisco even wants to - even teases it -

“I knew you missed me.” He bites Cisco’s ear, sucks at the velvet.

Cisco twists like a predator just woken but Wells doesn’t let Cisco overtake him again. He knows what Cisco wants - to control Wells pleasure, tease him and keep him under Cisco’s clever thumb. Not tonight. Not after all this time. Wells needs to own him, if only for now.

He finishes on Cisco’s belly, staring with shuddering satisfaction at Cisco’s slick skin. He commits every inch of Cisco’s frame to memory then lets Cisco slide away. Cisco pushes him to his side and plasters himself to Wells front. Cisco’s fingers bite into his lower back. He can’t move. He doesn’t want to.

Cisco is silent. Wells can see the cogs turning in his head, can feel the calm that starts to loosen his limbs. He knows Wells isn’t a threat, now, and his breathing is coming back to him. The calm after their storm is settling. Wells breathes in their mingled sweat and violence, the scent a balm for all his itching skin. He hasn’t felt this full since Cisco left him.

The arms around Wells go a little slack. Not much but it’s enough to signal that Cisco has finally relaxed. Wells pulls back to peer at Cisco, search him up close, see what’s changed. Cisco is still as Wells examines him. The only difference Wells can see is the new fill of his cheeks and the smooth stretch of skin underneath Cisco’s eyes, always the purple of a bruise, now blending in with the rest of him.

Wells has the urge to scoop him up. Toss Cisco over his shoulder and get them back to their Earth, their home, traditions be damned. 

“This planet is terrible,” Wells says eventually, just to break the silence. Cisco smiles against his jaw. “I wanted to see if it was really better than our Earth. It’s so ugly. And the people here - come on, Cisco. They’re practically cattle. And these clothes.”

Cisco nips at his jaw. “This planet has its charms.”

Wells wants to bite a better answer out of him, but Cisco is going to tell him what Cisco wants to tell him. It’s always fun to try to get more but Wells is too suddenly exhausted for that fight.

“This was the third place I breached,” Cisco says. “It was the only place I recognized from my visions. There’s plenty of resources and the people don’t fight. They thrive.”

Wells tugs at a tatter of deep brown fabric and frowns. “But at what cost?”

“Is this all you came for?” Cisco asks. He runs his nails along Wells temple, a gentle scrape. “Eat me out, insult me, then run away? And here I thought you might’ve grown in the past year.”

“I’ve grown,” Wells says. “I made friends.”

“Friends."

“It looks like you made some too.” Wells can’t keep the tension out of his voice. The anger.

Cisco pinches his neck. “Hey, uh-uh, no. You don’t get to be pissed off. I asked you to come with me. I begged you.”

The truth of the words is edged hot. Wells feels speared on them. He grips Cisco’s braid between his fingers and tugs, hard. “Come to what? This Earth is a joke.”

Instead of hurting him again, Cisco sits up. Wells follows.

“I want to show you something. Come on. And leave your gun.”

Wells does.

-

Cisco leads him to another hut just outside the village. Its huge, swallowing up land and sky, with walls and ceiling constructed of clear material.

“The seasons here change quickly,” Cisco explains, pulling a key from a chain around his neck and unlocking the door. “The people who originally settled this place realized they had to either let their people starve or find someway to extend their growing season.”

A warm, damp gust of air escapes. Wells takes a breath in the face of it.

“Is this a torture chamber?” he asks, feeling sweat break against his temple.

Cisco laughs. “It’s a greenhouse. We can grow any kind of food all year long. Enough to keep all of our people fed. Enough to trade with other villages without worrying about who will starve as a result.”

“How nice for you.” Wells frowns at a grid of dirt. Spindly bursts of color crawl out of it. He reaches forward with a twist of his lips but Cisco hits his hand.

“Don’t. It took me a month to perfect the food for this species. I don’t need you messing it up.”

Wells pulls his hand back. “You grew this?”

“This is my plot,” Cisco says, the same pride shining through his voice that did when he showed Wells a trap, a weapon, a kill. “This is how I earn my place in the village. I spliced two separate fruits and created this one. It’s sweeter than anything else we have. The kids love it.”

Cisco walks around the plot, showing Wells another plant, fingers gentle as he shows off blooming buds. Wells doesn’t listen but he does watch Cisco’s mouth move. He thinks about Cisco’s first year in his tribe. How this last year has been without him.

“They don’t spend all of their time fighting and scheming,” Cisco is saying when Wells can focus again. “So we have all this time to innovate. Learn. Grow.”

“You like fighting and scheming, though. It’s where you’re most brilliant,” Wells says. It’s the argument he made when Cisco first got it in his tech that he would be happier in a different world.

“Are you even looking at this?” Cisco asks, irritated. “I grew something. I can make life. Not just take it or ruin it. I can - I thought you would get it. You have a daughter. You know what it’s like to create something instead of just destroy.”

He trails off, frustrated, and Wells wants to argue that this ugly red thing isn’t comparable to Jesse. What Cisco created isn’t life - life giving, maybe, Wells can admit. But it’s fragile and delicate and needs constant care not to rot. Jesse wasn’t like that.

“I still remember when you told me about the first day you held her. How you wanted to protect her. How you wanted her love but knew it would just put her danger.”

Wells remembers that night, when he fought Jesse in combat. He’d been drunk on blood loss and pride and hurt when Cisco pressed cloths to his empty eye socket. Cisco had soothed him while Snow worked up his prototype mech and he hadn't been able to stop talking. Cisco used all the secrets he spilled against him, but never as devastatingly as this.

“I know it’s not the same,” Cisco whispers. “But I thought you would understand. I thought if I ever saw you again, I could show you this and you would finally understand why I had to leave.”

There’s a hitch in his voice, wet and hot as blood, and Wells doesn’t stop himself. He comes behind Cisco, pressing himself flush against Cisco’s back, and wraps his arms around Cisco tight enough to hold him still. Cisco gives a token struggle. Wells rests his chin on Cisco’s shoulder and presses his lips to Cisco’s neck.

“Isn’t this what you wanted for her?” Cisco asks.

“No,” Wells says, but isn’t entirely certain it’s the truth.

“I’m happy here. I do - ” Cisco leans against him, exposing the long, soft line of his throat. It bites into Wells like a juju bug - sharp and poisonous. Cisco still trusts him. “I do miss you. I miss Caitlin. Even Jesse. But I saw who I would be if I stayed. And I couldn’t - I’ve done so many things to survive, and I could always justify it. But I saw it, Harrison. The things I would’ve done. The people I would’ve hurt. Surviving wasn’t worth it.”

Wells holds him tighter. “It would’ve been your survival,” Wells whispers. Who cares how many people had to suffer for it. But they’ve had this discussion before, too. Cisco’s never told him the specifics of his visions. Wells never cared to know. It never mattered. Whatever had to be destroyed for Cisco to live - Wells wouldn't think twice about the trade. He never thought Cisco would have, either.

“I’m staying here,” Cisco says thickly.

“I know.”

He lets Cisco turn in his arms. Cisco runs his nails along Wells jaw.

“You should go soon.” Cisco presses his thumb into Wells bottom lip. “Before I really do decide not to let you.”

“Like you could catch me now. Those traps outside your place? They couldn’t stop a child.”

“They’re meant for children. The kids kept trying to break in when I first got here.”

A smile twitches on Wells lips. He kisses Cisco, hard enough to bruise both of them. It's not their last kiss. Wells knows it. Now that he has Cisco back on his tongue he can’t go back to his bland existence. He won’t. 

-

It’s weeks before Wells can go back. His Cisco isn’t comfortable with breaching and Earth 1 Cisco has a city to save, okay. Wells follows him around when Harry holographs the Council in, crossing his arms, glaring, until Cisco snaps that his pouting isn’t going to make Cisco drive him to see his boyfriend any faster.

When things settle down with DeVoe - Wells still doesn’t know why he can't just hunt the guy - Harry and Cisco meet him outside of his village.

“Can’t you just ask your Cisco to let me train him? I feel like we’re minivan dad’s taking our son to his 8th grade dance.”

“He doesn’t like using his powers,” Wells explains, shifting his pack on his shoulder. He’s packed it with Cisco’s favorite jerky and a letter from Snow.

“I didn’t like using mine either. But then I got over it and now I’m one of the most badass meta’s in the multiverse.”

“Sure,” Wells says. Cisco frowns. “Can we go now?”

“Hold your horses Romeo.” Harry leans over to Cisco, speaking low, but Wells Cyborg ears pick up his request for them to be left alone. Cisco sighs the most annoyed sigh and wanders to lean against a nearby tree.

“What?” Wells asks, impatient. He told Cisco he didn’t know when he’d be able to come again but he’d make it soon. What if Cisco thinks he lied, or he forgot, or he’s stalling?

Harry crosses his arms. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“Harry. I respect you, and both of your eyes, and both of your Cisco’s eyes, but if you don’t breach me I’m going to shoot both of you. In both of your eyes.”

“Your Cisco lives on a different Earth now,” Harry says, undaunted. “Long distance relationships are complicated. And when the person you love is on an entirely different earth - when you can’t just, just wave your hands and open a breach to get to them or even know if they want you there - it’s even harder.”

Wells knows Harry isn’t talking about him and his Cisco. Not entirely, anyway. He peers around Wells shoulders to Cisco, studying his fingernails, pretending not to listen.

“I just wonder if you’ve really thought this through. I know how easy it is to get caught up in - ” Harry glances at Cisco, too, before dropping his gaze to the ground. “Just. Now that we’re friends. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Cisco always hurts me,” Wells says, shrugging. “I hurt him. How else would we show we want each other?”

Harry shakes his head. “Even I know that’s not healthy.”

“He can’t come back here. And I can’t leave. But we can still have each other. It will be hard. It always was. Now come on.” Wells wraps his hand around his gun, angling it at Harry. He could get the left eye in one shot. Easy.

“Okay,” Cisco says, pushing off his tree, stepping between them. “You’ll shoot your eye out with that thing if you’re not careful, you know.”

“That’s the point.”

“Come on, Harry. Let’s just breach Wells 2.0 for his date so we can get back to work.”

“I still don’t think - ”

“Harry.” Cisco grips his shoulder and Harry’s tension eases. “Even if it’s a mistake - which we don’t know - it’s his mistake. Sometimes part of being a friend is giving advice and being there even when they don’t follow it.”

Cisco turns to Wells. “Ready?”

Wells nods.

-

Rumors swirl as the weeks go by.

Cisco breaches him to Earth 72 and he spends the nights glutting himself on his Cisco’s skin. They scrape and scratch and hold each other until they bruise. Wells becomes intimately familiar with Cisco’s bed, the floor of his hut, the stars of his new planet. Cisco gives him tours of every greenhouse and Wells presses him into the glass of each one, sinking to his knees behind Cisco’s body, licking messy and hungry until Cisco shakes apart under his mouth. Afterwards Cisco feeds him slices of the fruits he’s grown. None of it is delicious as Cisco himself.

The tribe start to wonder where he goes at night. They’ve come to terms with Wells standing in the clearing, talking seemingly to himself, but not with him missing from his tent. Wells knows it’s dangerous. They could be attacked. They could find out his secret and demand Cisco’s blood and he’d be forced to take them all on.

None of that stops him. None of it will.

Snow worries. What if he’s gone and another tribal leader comes - Jesse comes. He’s given her permission to act in his stead but things will go south one day. He can smell the blood in the air.

Even Cisco tells him he’s being stupid. Cisco doesn’t tell him to stop coming, though, so he doesn’t.

“Jesse still wants to expand,” Wells tells him one night, taste of Cisco heavy on his tongue. They’re under a grove of trees, stars tinted emerald, and Cisco is tracing designs on his chest with his blade. “Maybe I should challenge her.”

Cisco goes taut beside him. “Do you have a death wish?”

“If she led the tribe, my people would be protected. That’s what it’s coming to anyway. She thinks I’m too weak to lead.”

“Then wait for her to challenge you,” Cisco says, sitting up. “She probably won’t kill you if she issues it. And how do you think you’re going to hide this from her?”

“Maybe I’ll tell her.”

Wells doesn’t mean it. She would never let this continue if she knew. Cisco has to know Wells is teasing but he still lets himself get riled up. He climbs on Wells chest, mouth twisted, and presses his knife against Wells cheek.

“I’ll cut your tongue out first.”

Wells smiles, pulling his own skin against the blade. “I don’t think you could. I think you’d miss it too much.”

Cisco presses the knife to the ground and leans in, sucking Wells tongue into his mouth. Wells yanks his braid, pulling him closer, and presses his fingers into the meat of Cisco’s thigh. He doesn’t think about his Earth. About the danger and the thrill and what it will mean to face Jesse in the ring again. He can’t think, not past Cisco’s moans, Cisco’s taste. He’s too hungry.

Cisco lets him eat his fill.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to everyone on tumblr who encouraged this self-indulgence <3\. feedback as always is appreciated!


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